


Two hearts that beat as one

by dayinthelife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayinthelife/pseuds/dayinthelife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the asoiafkinkmeme. Prompt: She changes her mind and accepts his invitation to dance, just once, to be touched by him in front of the court.</p><p>They haven’t danced together since they were children; Jaime would twirl her around the great hall at Casterly Rock and she would beam and laugh along with him as her skirts flew around her. No whispered words and dirty looks accompanied their joy then, as it would now if people knew the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two hearts that beat as one

Robert is fond of feasts – after a hunt, before a farewell, a child’s birth or a maester’s death, the occasion matters not, only that there be food and drink in abundance. 

Cersei Lannister (not Baratheon, never Baratheon; she is a fearsome lioness not a fragile doe) does not share her husband’s fondness of heathen-like debauchery, but does enjoy a reason for fine dress, good wine, and the attentions of vapid noblemen and women eager to be in her good graces. 

She sits beside her husband, emeralds on the bodice of her silver gown glittering like cat’s eyes in the dusky glow of torchlight. Robert is well into his cups, as usual, and the woman seated next to her is bleating excitedly about some upcoming tourney or another. Cersei gives her a languid smile and nods her golden head, not interested in whether or not this Redwyne or that Payne will unhorse her brother, they are no match for Jaime and it would be foolish to think that he could be defeated by such men. Luckily, the announcement of the singer’s arrival gives her an excuse to end such dull conversation.

Cersei sighs and brings the goblet of Arbor Gold to her lips (only the finest for Robert’s feasts, of course). She is not interested in dancing, hasn’t been since she was a child, back when she dreamt of floating across the room in the arms of a dragon prince. Even when Robert had taken her as his partner, back when they had still put effort into their marriage, he had always smelled of ale and stood too close, breath hot on her face while he stepped on her feet gracelessly. She looks across the room to her brother, the golden lion immaculate in his snow white feasting attire. He senses her gaze and turns his head, meeting her eyes and allowing a small smile to tug his lips upwards. She bites her lip for a moment then looks away, knowing that she shouldn’t risk giving Jaime more attention than necessary in public. But she’s had a few goblets of wine by this point in the evening and her guard has dropped more than she’d care to admit, so when Jaime approaches the high table she doesn’t glare and shoo him away like she normally would. 

“Kingslayer!” Robert roars, and Jaime gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Your Grace,” he responds, bowing his head slightly before turning to his sister. “I was wondering if I might ask your lady wife for a dance. I have not seen her in a fortnight, and you know how we lions need the company of our pride.”

Cersei’s heart drops into her stomach and she feels a flush start to creep up her neck. This is too foolish, she thinks as she drains her goblet, the alcohol sending tendrils of warmth coursing through her veins.

“If you wish, Kingslayer, but don’t think you’ll be the one fucking her tonight!” Robert says with a bark of laughter. “I’ll never understand loving siblings, I suppose I can blame Stannis for that,” he says before calling for more wine. Jaime laughs and extends his hand to Cersei.

And idiotically, she takes it. His hand is warm against her own, and mischief dances in his emerald eyes as he pulls her into the crowd and the singer begins _Two Hearts That Beat As One_.

They haven’t danced together since they were children; back when their love was still blossoming and adults laughed to see the young twins playing the courtly lady and gallant knight. Jaime would twirl her around the great hall at Casterly Rock and she would beam and laugh along with him as her skirts flew around her. No whispered words and dirty looks accompanied their joy then, as it would now if people knew the truth.

But as Jaime puts a hand on her waist and pulls her close no one notices or cares, or at least no one seems to. It seems Robert was generous with his wine; everyone is either drinking or too drunk to be concerned with the oddly close Lannister twins. Instead the men turn their attentions toward the women they plan to bed that evening, while the ladies titter and gossip together or else make a show of not wanting to be bedded. Cersei allows herself a small exhalation of relief and leans into Jaime’s touch.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, his voice low and close. She shudders pleasantly as she feels his breath on her ear, in her hair. “Damn Robert and his hunting trips to the seven hells.”

She brings her hands up to rest upon his shoulders, not daring to lace her fingers together against the back of his neck like she truly desires. Their bodies fall easily into rhythm, and she feels an exciting jolt as their hips meet. Jaime’s body feels white hot where he touches her, one hand upon her waist, the other cradling the small of her back (she should really scold him for being so bold but she doesn’t, and she wonders whether she is drunk on wine or this incredibly stupid public display of affection), she is even aware of every golden strand of his hair that brushes against her face as they move. 

“You’re awfully quiet, would you prefer to be galloping about the room with your stag right now? He’s as graceful as a lamb, I hear,” Jaime japes, grinning. 

“And have Maester Luwin tending to my broken toes for the next week? I’d rather not,” Cersei says, scowling up at him before breaking off into a small laugh. “I’ve missed you too.”

Cersei lets herself get lost in the music, in Jaime’s eyes and mouth and smell, and before long finds her head nestled on his chest, arms wrapped around his neck and fingers teasing lazily at his hair. It is folly, of course, but for once in her life she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the fact that she hasn’t had a proper fuck in weeks, but she can’t bring herself to worry about what the courtiers think. Robert can have his whores, why should she not be allowed the pleasure of simply embracing her lover, someone who has been truer to her than any other man living or dead could ever be? Besides, she convinces herself, at this point Robert has the serving wench in his lap and probably wouldn’t even recognize whom she was dancing with if his wife even crossed his mind.

“You’ve become bold in your old age, I see. Have you really changed so much since our last rendezvous, sweet sister?” Jaime teases, running a hand through her hair and tucking a strand behind her ear. 

“I suppose I have been quite careless tonight,” she sighs. “But perhaps it is better to be careless than miserable.”

After three songs they release one another, but not before Cersei whispers something in his ear about meeting in her private chambers after the revelers disperse. It is good to have Jaime back, and perhaps his impulsiveness isn’t quite all bad, she reflects as she declares that she is retiring to her rooms for the evening, blaming her exhaustion on too much Arbor Gold.


End file.
